


No Help

by TheLadyRebel



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed Multiplayer, Assassin's Creed: Revelations, Death, Murder, Seraffo - Freeform, The Ottoman Doctor - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 00:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyRebel/pseuds/TheLadyRebel
Summary: The Ottoman Doctor, Seraffo, examples his psychotic tendencies to a courtesan he has captured.





	No Help

The mere sound that accompanies the union of tinned steel and flesh is enough to drive a man insane with bloodlust. The victim's frantic screams, the terrified look in her eyes, the simple satisfaction of knowing you're the one causing this pain; knowing that you're causing the warm, thick blood to pool out of the wound that you've just sliced neatly into the skin of your prey. And the sweet, metallic smell of blood and sweat intertwined as they meet your nostrils. 

Today was going to be a wonderful day.

With each labored breath of the woman that lie on the gurney before me, I could feel a shiver rake its way down my spine and cause the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. Her voice has become hoarse due to her repetitive screams and cries that somehow managed to sneak past the gag between her lips. It disgusted me thoroughly how pathetic she was. 

Her head and limbs had been restrained, securely, however she must have found struggling a necessity, even knowing it was being done in vain. Shaking my head, I slid a finger beneath her chin in a simple gesture that demanded that she give me her full attention. At my touch her body ceased all movement, becoming locked and rigid. She lifted her pale eyes so that her gaze rested on the beak of my mask, not daring to peer into the mask's lenses. A subtle defiance shown in her stare, yet her fear visibly increased the longer she looked.

I cocked my head to one side, studying her for a moment, before I reached down to clutch my stomach and my laughter echoed throughout the small room. With a single sigh I reached up and untied the drawstring at the back of my mask and pull it away from my face in a fluid motion. I wipe a lone tear from my eye and smile down at my victim.

The woman's eyes widen immediately in horror at the sight before her and she began to struggle in her bonds yet again, her voice now strained by the effort of her soundless screams.

"Does my appearance frighten you?" I muttered just loud enough for her to hear and placed my hands on her cheeks, pinching them tightly between my forefinger and thumb. "I was in your position, once upon a time, you know." I kept one gloved hand pressed to her cheek, holding her still, while the other searched for a scalpel on my belt. 

I pull the blade from its loop on my belt and place its slender tip on her stomach, pressing it against her skin just hard enough to make the first slice. As I drag the blade down to her navel, she attempts another inaudible scream.

"Pinned down, helpless. They felt no pity for me, showed me no mercy..." With a flick of my wrist, I made a deep incision in her side, which was rewarded by another soundless cry. "Just the cold bite of the blade, again and again..." One, two, three more flicks of the wrist and her crimson blood seeped out of the new incisions and spilled onto the floor.

"No. Help. For either of us." and with those final words, the blood lust came over me; the sheer NEED to slice her throat and watch her suffocate on the very essence that gave her life. I threw my head back and let out a vicious, unhinged cackle, as I raised the blade to the woman's throat. Her vain struggle to escape me drove my laughter into lunacy and I drove the scalpel into the side of her throat.

In a matter of seconds her life had gone; disappeared, without a trace. Yet, I continued to laugh and slice at the cadaver before me, whipping my blade at it wildly, drenching myself in streams of scarlet.

I lowered my arms to my side, breathing heavily, and let the instrument clatter to the floor beneath me. My chest heaved with each labored breath and I stumbled back, catching myself on a counter. My gloves left bloodied prints on its surface. 

Cocking my head, I stare down at the pool of garnet by the gurney. It resembled the former contents of a spilled wine glass. With a shrug, I walked over to the stairs that led out of the room and began to whistle a happy tune. I guess I'd have to clean up my mess later.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a piece I wrote in 2012.


End file.
